30 Days of EdxLing
by ailaxolotl
Summary: 30 drabbles for the two biggest dorks in all of Amestris. Rated T because better safe than sorry!


**Time**

Ling has always believed that time was his greatest ally with Edward, seconded only by patience. As it turns out, he muses, while Edward makes a feast of his neck, he was right.

**Cherry Blossoms**

The Xingese prince raves about this tree for hours at a time, describing it with near obsessive detail. He claims it can only be found in Xing, and its beauty is unrivaled.

Though, watching his animated face as he goes on and on about its petals in full bloom, Edward could beg to differ.

**Story**

Their story was one of late night murmurs and cold toes; of waking in the morning to the sweet aroma of sex and sweat.

**Rain**

Resembool was a quiet village frequented with heavy storms that had long since dulled Edward's appreciation of rain; Ling's childlike awe in response to the meager downpour was refreshing, and the kiss he bestowed upon Edward was even more so.

**Sword**

Ling's swords are a collection Edward has always secretly admired. Ling offers to give him lessons, but Ed finds himself more focused on the Xingese prince's lean, shirtless torso than his lecture on proper stance.

**Iris**

Ling seems to be determined to expose him to as much Xingian culture as possible in the least amount of time possible.

His plans are slightly derailed upon the discovery that Edward is quite allergic to one of his favorite flowers.

**Bamboo**

"No, Ling, I've already told you I'm not eating it."

"Well, why on earth not?"

"It looks disgusting. Are you sure this is even edible?!"

"For the last time, _yes_, I am. Bamboo's even believed to make people taller."

It was a complete lie, of course, but Edward drank his broth with much more enthusiasm after that.

**Moon**

If he is the cold, dark moon, then Edward is the riotous, blazing sun, always in a cycle that rarely meets with his; but when their paths do cross, it is a wild affair that burns brighter than any star.

**Shooting Star**

Ling wishes for fresh _daifuku, _a week of nothing but clear skies above, and a warm, active night with his lover.

Edward wishes he could keep Ling in his arms like this as they stargaze longer.

**Rice**

Ling prefers rice. Edward prefers noodles. Either way, their combined taste as tongues meet and teeth clash is far more desirable than the flavor of one by itself.

**Wind Chimes**

Edward says they're tacky and obnoxious and far from his style. Ling almost laughs at the pure irony of his words.

**Glass**

He remembers the first time they made love all too well; Edward, in his nervous excitement, had knocked over a prized family heirloom made of glass in hues of red and yellow.

**Far Away**

It is nights like these that Ling hates most. He _knows_ Edward misses his family, and he_ understands_ why Ed left, even if only for a little while. But the simple knowledge that Edward is far away and the left half of his bed is cold leaves little room for anything else besides self-pity.

**Butterfly**

Mei Chang certainly took her metamorphosis through puberty well, emerging from her cocoon a fresh-faced, curvy woman. Perhaps Edward noticed it so soon because of his brother's doting face and semi-permanent blush. After all, he only recognized it because he himself has worn that nervous, shy attitude in the presence of a certain prince not too long ago.

**Wings**

The Fullmetal Alchemist has always been used to the ability to travel, to move where and when he pleased. As he quickly learns, Ling has the same need, but his wings have been clipped by commitment to the throne. It is a sad, but fair exchange, Edward thinks. He only wishes Ling had the freedom he so quietly yearns for.

**Past**

The past is irreversible. The future, however, is a ball of clay just begging to be shaped and molded. Edward keeps his past as a reminder and places his future in the hands of a man destined to be emperor.

**Snow**

Ling has never seen snow, never heard of a snowball, never engaged in a snowball fight.

Edward becomes a merciless instructor.

**Night**

"G'night, Edward."

"Mmm."

"Sleep tight."

"Yeah."

"…..Edward?"

A resigned sigh. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

A sudden exhale that speaks faintly of a chuckle. "You too."

**Day**

The ex-alchemist finds that days here blend together into weeks, and those into months, and before he knows it, half a lifetime has passed by alongside this damned foreigner, and he can't think of a better way to have spent it.

**Color**

Edward doesn't need to say anything for Ling to know his favorite color is red. Despite this, when Ling presents him with a vibrantly red _changshan,_ Edward adamantly refuses to wear it and becomes nearly as red as the cloth.

**Note**

One note. Then two, then three, and soon Ling's room is a chorus of scandalous noises.

**Fire **

Their fights char skin, boil blood, turn teeth and tongues to ash. Their apologies are laced with water to nurse the wounds.

**Path**

They've walked along this beaten-down path every week since his first arrival, and Edward will be damned if a few (a _lot_ of) wrinkles, liver spots, and grey hairs stop them now.

**Symbol**

Edward mentioned in passing his confusion over the symbol on Lan Fan's mask. Before he can catch himself, Ling has spent three hours explaining in detail the theories and philosophies behind _yin_ and _yang_. Needless to say, Edward never brings it up again.

**Lightning**

Something about sex while the rain is pouring down is irresistible to Ling. Perhaps it is the mixing of claps of thunder and Edwards' moans, or simply how a single bolt of lightning can send flashes of light streaking across his lover's beautiful chest.

**Silk**

It began with just a few strokes of his hands through Ling's silky hair. Twenty minutes later the dignified prince was a lightly snoring puddle in his lap.

**Waterfall**

Edward wants to snorkel. Ling wants to jump off the waterfall. Edward holds back words of _I told you so_ as alkahestrics frantically work to reset their beloved prince's collarbone.

**Memories**

And of course the memories never went away or faded. That truth had long since been accepted by both. So when the memories manifested into waking-up-in-a-cold-sweat-unable-to-breathe-nightmares, they simply held each other close, knowing that there was nothing to do but simply _exist_ for each other and hope it was enough.

**Sleep**

The golden-haired man had always been unashamedly lethargic once post-coital. It is in these hushed moments, full of tangled limbs and contented sighs, that Ling feels most at peace, his _qi _as still and soft as the warm torso of his lover.

**Chance**

Edward asks him on a cold, foggy, miserable morning what the chances are of rejection if he proposes.

It's the first time in years he's ever seen Ling cry.


End file.
